why. We've researched this problem for ten years now. You tell us what we have overlooked or neglected. We will receive with utmost enthusiasm any suggestions you might have. According to exhaustive tests from every possible point of reference, there is no difference in the blood of these donors and any donors anywhere!' He did a slight thumping of his own, his thin face flushed with anger. 'And KVIN is KVIN, no matter where!' 'I don't like it,' Northen growled to Ainsworthy a few days later, 'Kief's convalescent now, but why? I've been drawing up another set of statistics and I don't like it.' 'Must you like it?' asked Ainsworthy. 'Is that requisite to valid results?' 'Of course not,' growled Northen morosely. 'What statistics?' Ainsworthy asked, interest quickening. 'A new lead?' 'It's true, isn't it, that the only blood donors used for KVIN replacements are those from Away?' 'Yes,' nodded Ainsworthy. 'That's a factor that hasn't been considered before,' said Northen. 'I've queried the other Regionals-and I don't like it. There are no Detach donors involved at San Fran Regional. At Denver Regional, half their donors are Detaches.' His thick hands crumpled the papers he held. 'And curse'n'blastit! All the Central Regional donors are Detached' Ainsworthy leaned back and laughed. 'Exactly the ratio of deaths and recoveries regionally. But why are you so angry? Will it kill you if a Detach has something to do with solving our difficulty?' 'It's that those lumpheaded-sons-of-bowlegged-sea-cooks at Central swear there's nothing in the blood of any of these Detaches that's any different from any other donors! And the benighted-fuzzlebrains at Denver swear the same!' 'Hoh!' Ainsworthy leaned forward. 'No answer?' he chuckled. 'Maybe it's an invalid question. Maybe no one recovers from KVIN!' 'Don't be more of a fool than you have to,' snapped Northern. Then automatically, 'Your pardon.' 'It's yours,' Ainsworthy automatically responded. The two sat in silence for a moment, then Northen pushed himself slowly to his feet. 'Well, let's go see this-who's he? The Away fellow.' 'Kemble,' said-Ainsworthy, rising. 'Yes, Kemble.' Northen knocked his chair back from the table as he turned. 'Maybe he can give us some sort of lead.' Kemble was in the fields when they arrived so they had a couple of hours to kill before he could talk with them. They spent the time in touring the settlement, each aspect of which only deepened Northen's dislike of the place. They ended up at the tiny school where girls, long-braided, full-skirted, and boys, barefooted for the warm day and long trousered in the manner of Detaches, worked diligently and self-consciously under the visitors' eyes. After they left the school, Northen snorted. 'They're no angels! Did you see that little devil in the back seat slipping that frog down into the little girl's desk drawer?' Ainsworthy laughed. 'Yes,' he said. 'He was very adroit. But where did you get the idea that Detaches are supposed to be angels? They certainly never claim such distinction.' 'Then why do they feel the world's so evil that they have to leave it?' snapped Northen. 'That's not the reason-' Ainsworthy broke off, weary to the bone of this recurrent theme harped on by those who dislike the Detaches. Well, those who took refuge in such a reaction were only striking back at a group that, to them, dishonored their own way of life by the simple act of withdrawing from it. Kemble met them in a small office of the Center, his hair still glistening from his after-work wash-up. He made them welcome and said, 'How can I help you?' Northen stated his problem succinctly, surprising Ainsworthy by his being able to divorce it from all emotional bias. 'So it comes down to this,' he finished. 'Are you in possession of any facts, or, lacking facts, any theories that might have a bearing on the problem?' There was a brief silence, then Kemble spoke. 'I'm surprised, frankly, at these statistics. It never occurred to me that we Detaches were involved in KVIN other than purely incidentally. As a matter of fact, we have no connection with the other Detach settlements. I mean, there's no organization as such of Detaches. Each settlement is entirely independent of any other, except, perhaps, in that a certain type of personality is attracted to this kind of life. We exchange news and views, but there are no closer ties.' 'Then there wouldn't be any dietary rules or customs-' 'None,' smiled Kemble. 'We eat as God and our labors give us food.' 'No hallucinogens or ceremonial drugs?' 'None,' said Kemble. 'We approach God as simply as He approaches us.' Northen shifted uncomfortably. 'You're Religious.' He made it a placard for a people. 'If the worship of God is so labeled,' said Kemble. 'But certainly, Detaches are not unique in that.' The three sat silent, listening to the distant shrieking laughter of the released school children. 'Then there's nothing, nothing that might make a difference?' sighed Northen heavily. 'I'm sorry,' said Kemble. 'Nothing-' 'Wait,' said Ainsworthy. 'It's remote, but what about your prayer before various activities?' 'Prayer' snorted Northen. 'But that's our custom before any-' Kemble broke off. He looked from Northen to Ainsworthy and back to Northen. 'There is one factor that hasn't been considered,' he said soberly. Then he smiled faintly, 'You, sir, had better assume your most unemotional detachment.' Northen hunched forward, scrabbling in his bent and tattered notebook for an empty page. 'Go on,' he said, his chewed pencil poised in readiness. 'I had forgotten it,' said Kemble. 'It has become so automatic. Each of us donors, as our blood is being taken, prays continuously for the recipient of that blood, with specific mention of his name and illness if we know it. We try to keep our flow of intercessory prayer as continuous as the flow of blood into the containers.' Northen had stopped writing. His face reddened. His mouth opened. Ainsworthy could see the tensing of the muscles preparatory to a roar and spoke quickly. 'Do you know if this is a practice among other Detaches?' 'We got the idea from a Denver Area settlement. We discussed it with them by correspondence and, if I'm not mistaken, we came to the same conclusion. It makes a purely impersonal thing into a vital personal service. They, as well as we, give intercessory prayer along with our blood.' He stood up. 'And that, Mr. Northen, is the only factor that I can think of that might make a difference. If you'll excuse me now, gentlemen, there are things to be done before milking time.' 'One minute,' Northen's voice was thick with control. 'Can you give me a copy of the prayer?' 'I'm sorry,' said Kemble. 'There is no formal prayer. Each fashions his prayer according to his own orientation to God.' 'Well, one thing,' Northen sagged in exhaustion over his desk at the Unit. 'This can be settled once and for all. The next case that comes up, we'll just make sure that no one prays anything while they're giving blood. That'll prove there's nothing to this silly idea!' 'Prove by a dead patient?' asked Ainsworthy. 'Are you going to let someone die just to test this theory?' 'Surely you aren't feather-frittered-mealy-brained enough-' roared Northen. 'What other anything have you found to account for the recovery of KVIN's at Central?' Ainsworthy was impatient. He left Northen muttering and roaring in a whisper over his notebook. About a week later, Ainsworthy was roused out of a sound post-midnight sleep by the insistent burr of the intercom. He half-fell out of bed and staggered blindly to answer it. 'Yes,' he croaked, 'this is Ainsworthy?' 'No prayer-' The voice came in a broken rumble. 'Not one word. Not one thought-' 'Northen!' Ainsworthy snapped awake. 'What is it? What's the matter?' 'I've got it,' said Northen thickly. 'The answer?' asked Ainsworthy. 'Couldn't you have waited until-' 'No, KVIN,' Northen mumbled. 'At least someone is sawing my ribs off one by one and hitting me over the head with them-' His voice faded. 'Northen!' Ainsworthy grabbed for his robe as he called. 'I'll be right there. Hang on!' 'No praying!' said Northen. 'No praying-This'll prove it. No-promise-promise-' 'Okay, okay!' said Ainsworthy. 'Did you deliberately-but there was no sound on the intercom. He stumbled out the door, abandoning the robe that wouldn't go on upside-down and wrongside-out, muttering to himself, 'Not another case already! Not this soon!'
